


bad day

by gingersnapdragon



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Incest, M/M, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 13:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingersnapdragon/pseuds/gingersnapdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>daddy knows how to make a bad day better</p>
            </blockquote>





	bad day

Carver stormed into the house, slamming the front door behind him. Malcolm jumped, looking up from his laptop just in time to see a blur of white-and-red football uniform stalking down the hall. He opened his mouth to call out, but then he heard the thud of helmet and pads being thrown into the wall, cleats kicking the legs of the bunk bed he still shared with Garrett. Malcolm took off his reading glasses and laid them on the desk, using the ritual to calm himself, center himself. There were times for being a lover and times for being a father. He didn’t relish having to decide where the line was.

By the time he got to the boys’ room, Carver had slumped onto the bottom mattress, Garrett’s bed, and was hunched over, head in his hands. There was a dent in the plaster where he’d thrown his helmet, but Malcolm decided talking about that could wait.

“Something happen, son?” he asked, and Carver shook his head without looking up. “Nothing happened? Oh, I see. That explains everything.”

Carver shifted just enough to glare up through his fingers, and Malcolm smothered the instinct to laugh. Carver sighed and sat back, dropping his hands into his lap. The gesture uncovered his eye, swollen and rapidly changing from red to purple, and his mouth, smeared with blood from the split on his full lower lip. All of Malcolm’s mirth fled in an instant and he knelt on the floor in front of Carver to get a better look.

“Who did this?” He reached up to touch Carver’s jaw, but Carver jerked his head away, frowning so hard he pulled open the cut on his lip and spilled fresh blood down his chin.

“Don’t, Dad. It’s fine. It’s nothing.”

“Yeah, well, all that _nothing_ is bleeding all over your uniform.”  Malcolm pulled his t-shirt off, holding the soft fabric up to Carver’s lip. It took more than a little insistence, but Malcolm won.

“I’ll buy you a new shirt,” Carver mumbled, muffled by the stained cotton and the swelling.

Malcolm chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t worry about the shirt, Carver,” he snapped, then took a deep breath, softening his voice. Neither father nor lover had a need for that tone. “I wish you’d tell me what happened.”

Carver shrugged, leaning back, and Malcolm ached at the sudden distance it put between them. “Just some guys talking smack. Nothing major. I lost my head, is all.”

With Carver’s face out of reach, Malcolm had to settle for resting his hands on Carver’s knees, rubbing the firm thigh muscles through spandex and padding. Carver jerked, then shifted, squirming on the mattress. Malcolm felt a jolt of lust at the realization of his position, kneeling on the floor between Carver’s spread thighs, shirtless, face level with his son’s dick. He licked his lips, and Carver made a strangled noise above him.

Malcolm reached up and hooked his fingers under the waistband of Carver’s pants. “This okay?” he said softly, and Carver nodded, still clutching Malcolm’s now-bloody shirt to his mouth. It looked like he was biting down on it. Malcolm only had plans to pull the pants down far enough to get to Carver’s dick, but they were too tight, kept his thighs too close together, kept Malcolm too far away from Carver’s groin, and in the end the pants and cleats came off and Carver’s legs got slung over Malcolm’s shoulders.

Carver groaned before Malcolm’s tongue ever touched him, a broken sound as soon as warm breath skittered over his skin, and Malcolm grinned with satisfaction at the howl Carver made when he swallowed him down. Sometimes Malcolm couldn’t believe how much he loved doing this, how hungry he was for Carver’s cock in his mouth, but he moaned as loudly as Carver did, feeling himself harden with the pleasure of Carver’s weight and thickness on his tongue. He wet two fingers and prodded gently at Carver’s ass, the ass only Malcolm had ever had, and Carver gripped his head so hard it hurt when Malcolm finally slid them inside.

“D-Daddy,” Carver gasped, breathing as hard as he does after games, after practice on the field, and Malcolm sucked harder, pressed more firmly. It was over quickly, Carver still young, still sensitive, and Malcolm didn’t let go until the dick in his mouth was soft and Carver pushed at him, hissing about being too sensitive.

Malcolm sat back, knees and shoulders aching but with an unquenchable smile on his face, and Carver lunged at him, catching his mouth in a deep, aggressive kiss. The cut on his lip still bled sluggishly, and the tang of copper was strong in Malcolm’s mouth, overriding the bitter salt he’d sucked down earlier. When Carver pulled back, there was a pink smear over his chin, and Malcolm reached out to wipe it away with his thumb.

“I love you, Daddy,” Carver whispered, and Malcolm gathered him into his arms, squeezing tightly.

“I love you too.”


End file.
